The Winter Love

by April Munday

  “Edward,” she said as they broke apart, “you do know that I have no dowry.”

  “Of course,” he answered quickly. “I doubt the nuns would give it up. I do not need it. You know that I am wealthy; a dowry is not necessary.”

  “You’re a good man, Edward.”

  “No, I’m not. If I see something I want I go and get it and I want you.”

  Eleanor sucked in a breath. Perhaps she had made a mistake after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Two days before Christmas the entire family and Eleanor set off for Henry’s house. It was a cold day and snow had fallen during the night. Heavy grey clouds threatened more and Sir John set a fast pace so that they would arrive at Henry’s before dark.

  Eleanor was transfixed by the country that they passed through. She kept Edward busy by asking questions all the time. They passed gently rounded hills and pretty valleys. Most of the villages were little more than hamlets.

  They arrived in Winchester in time for the midday meal. Eleanor had never seen anything like it. The city was dominated by the cathedral church and the castle. She would rather have visited the shrine of St Swithun than go into the inn to eat, but she accepted the need to eat quickly so that they could continue the journey.

  Sir John led them to an inn where he was known and they were served quickly and efficiently. Eleanor remembered her last visit to an inn. There was no need now for her to fear. They were a large enough party to be safe from all but the most determined outlaws. The male servants were armed as well as Sir John and his sons.

  Lady Mary was already very tired when they made ready to start again and Eleanor felt sorry for her. The journey was too long for her to manage on horseback, so she rode in the cart with their baggage. The cart was very uncomfortable, despite the cushions and blankets that protected her a little from the constant jarring.

  “May I ride with you this afternoon?” she asked the older woman.

  “Are you unwell?” asked Lady Mary looking carefully into her face.

  “No, please do not worry. I wish only to keep you company.”

  “That’s very kind my dear. For a while, then, but not for too long or you will not be able to get back on your horse.”

  They had not gone far before Eleanor began to regret her decision, but Lady Mary seemed much brighter and she thought her sacrifice worth it. Lady Mary was as inclined to talk as her daughter, so Eleanor did not need to say much and the older woman did not mind her curiosity as she turned constantly to look at the hills and fields as they passed.

  Dusk was falling as they turned into the courtyard of Henry’s house and it had been snowing for the last few leagues. Eleanor was surprised by the size of the house. It was much larger than Sir John’s and much of it seemed new. Henry had never told her that he was poor; it had always been her own interpretation of his clothing and lack of possessions. It seemed that she had been wrong and she should have gauged his wealth from Solomon and not his appearance. He had been right about his house’s lack of defences. The house stood apart from the village. It was mostly timber built, but some newer additions were made of stone. The courtyard was surrounded by a wooden fence, but work was quite advanced on a stone wall and a gate. The wall was several yards further back than the fence and Henry’s intention of making this an important and imposing building was clear. A snow covered ditch indicated that a moat was being dug around the manor and its courtyard. She could make out the shapes of the dovecote and kitchen, but the rest of the property was hidden by falling snow.

  Henry came out with his servants to greet them. They carried torches and Eleanor realised how dark it had become.

  Eleanor looked at Henry and it took her a moment to understand why the sight of him made her feel comfortable, then very uncomfortable.

  Henry seemed surprised to see Eleanor in the cart and she wondered if he had not meant her to come. His face cleared as she jumped down into his arms. She barely noticed Edward standing beside his brother, waiting to offer her the same service.

  “Eleanor has been keeping me company,” said Lady Mary, as she eased her way out of the cart with the help of her second son.

  “That is no more than I would have expected of her,” said Henry warmly. “I hope you had a good journey, Mother.”

  “Your father set such a pace I was afraid every bone in my body would be broken in that cart.”

  “It’s an old cart,” said Henry with one of his rare smiles. “I’ll see if I can make it more comfortable before you go home.”

  Lady Mary kissed his cheek. “You’re a good son, Henry.”

  Henry smiled over her shoulder at Eleanor, who smiled back. Then his smile faded and something else took its place. He turned away and she could not examine his face any more.

  “Come inside. I have warm spiced wine waiting and a good fire.”

  Eleanor followed the others, keeping back slightly, so as not to impose herself on the family. Now she noticed that Edward was not walking with her, but saw him organising the servants with the baggage. She caught his eye and he looked away immediately.

  They entered the house and went into the hall, where servants removed their cloaks and brought them warmed slippers. Eleanor had now seen enough households to know that Henry’s contained more women than it should. They had brought two maids with them, but it seemed that Henry had expected to provide for all their needs.

  Eleanor looked around the hall. Whereas the walls of Sir John’s hall and all the other rooms in the house were plain, Henry’s walls were covered with pictures. Eleanor wondered briefly just how wealthy he was. Even the floors showed his wealth. She realised that she was walking on tiles, rather than beaten earth.

  Once Henry had settled everyone in the hall with beakers of wine he picked one up and advanced towards her.

  “Come with me, I’ll show you your room.” She felt Edward follow her with his eyes as she left the hall with Henry, but he said nothing.

  Henry took Eleanor through two narrow passages to a small room which contained a narrow bed, a chest and a chair. For a moment, she was distracted by the pictures on the walls. Their quality was better than that of those in the hall and she stared at them. From the sheep and the dragon she recognised the story of St Margaret for whose sake she had chosen her name.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Peter’s skills have improved since he did the hall before I went to France. He is doing the other rooms now. I like this room so much, now, that I come in here before I go to Mass.”

  Eleanor was silent, for there was nothing she could say. It was clear to her that Henry had done this for her sake alone.

  “This bedchamber is away from the others,” he continued, “so that you will not be disturbed. You will not have to share with Isabelle and the servants have orders to bring you hot bricks, so that you can sit here whenever you want to be alone or quiet. And it has a strong door and a bar.”

  Tears filled Eleanor’s eyes. “You’re so kind and thoughtful. Thank you.”

  She had never known the luxury of a room of her own, where she could do as she chose. She no longer doubted that Henry had been expecting her to visit with his family; he had prepared this room just for her. In Edward’s house she had had to sit on the chest when she was reading Henry’s book; here she had her own chair. It was covered with comfortable looking cushions and she longed to sit in it to ease the aches of the journey. Gingerly she touched the bed curtains. They were thick and bright, as were the coverings on the bed.

  “It is a large enough house that I can be generous with space,” said Henry, as if in apology.

  “It is a wonderful house.”

  “I will show you the rest of it tomorrow, if you wish.”

  “I should like that.”

  Henry smiled and pressed the beaker of wine into her hands. “I hope that you will not treasure your solitude so much that you won’t join us in the hall to eat.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened at the thought of such rudenes
s, then she realised that Henry really was giving her the choice. He had noticed her unease with noisy mealtimes even with his family and he was offering her the peace she had sought so much since she had left the convent.

  “I thank you for your kindness, but I am used to eating with your family now.”

  “This is my home, Eleanor, and you are my most treasured guest. I want you to be comfortable and if that means that you wish to be alone, I will not be insulted.”

  “There have been times when such solitude would have been welcome.”

  Henry coloured slightly and Eleanor was distressed.

  “I have insulted you and I don’t know...” She placed her hand on his arm.

  “No, Eleanor, please. I am the one who should apologise and I do.”

  Eleanor could think of nothing to say, so she examined the room, finally sitting in the chair.

  It was so comfortable she was afraid she would fall asleep in it if she stayed there much longer.

  “The room is to your taste?”

  “Very much. I could not ask for more.”

  “Then I shall return to the hall. The servants will bring your things.”

  “Thank you.” She stood again. “Perhaps I should return with you, in case I forget the way.”

  Henry held out his arm for her and she took it.

  Back in the hall there was more light and she was able to study Henry more closely. He seemed to have grown older in the few weeks since she had last seen him. His manor must give him many cares. He had obviously been eating well in that time. Although he was still thinner than Edward, he had filled out enough that he no longer looked uncared for or ill. He was at his ease here. She did not think it was the comfort of the house that made him easy, just that this was his home. His servants moved around quietly and with purpose. No wonder he had wanted to come back here as quickly as he could. Here he could forget the noise of the battlefield and find peace. And he was offering to share that peace with her whilst she was here.

  There were more people in the hall than there had been at Sir John’s; it seemed more people had the right to eat at his table than at his father’s, or that he was more generous. Despite this, it was still quieter than Sir John’s hall.

  Over the evening meal Sir John told Henry about the state of things at his manor and about Isabelle’s betrothal. All this news seemed to cheer Henry and Eleanor was glad. His own news about his manor was also good. Things had prospered while he had been in France and the building work was going well. It seemed that he had honest and capable servants.

  “And how have you fared, Eleanor?”

  It was the question Eleanor had dreaded. She and Edward had agreed that no one would know about their betrothal until he had received word from her cousin, but there could be no keeping the attack on her from Henry. She was only surprised that he had not mentioned it when they were alone.

  “I have learned to ride a horse and I have sailed to the Isle of Wight and I am learning to sew.”

  “And did you get that scar falling from a horse?”

  Eleanor’s hand went to the scar on her cheek as if she thought she might hide it from him.

  “No,” she whispered. “I did not hurt myself falling from a horse.”

  “Edward?”

  Eleanor recognised the anger in Henry’s low voice and understood why he had waited until now to ask his question.

  “Eleanor was attacked in the street.” Surely she imagined that Edward’s voice was shaking; he could not be frightened of Henry.

  “You allowed her to go out alone?”

  “Edward saved my life.” Eleanor kept her voice low and tried to make it clear that there was no more to be said.

  “Did he?” Henry banged a fist on the table. He didn’t even glance in her direction. “You were supposed to keep her safe, Edward, not lead her into danger,” he shouted.

  “Enough, Henry,” said his father. “Eleanor is well.”

  “No thanks to Edward.”

  “I failed in my hospitality, Henry and you cannot blame me more than I blame myself.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much. You have never taken the blame for anything in your life.”

  “I take the blame for this. I was wrong, I put Eleanor’s life in danger, but she is well now.”

  “Sister Margaret,” shouted Henry. “How dare you be so familiar with her name!”

  “Because we are to be married.” Edward spoke quietly, but Eleanor thought she saw a spark of triumph light his eyes briefly.

  “Married?” Henry turned to Eleanor. “You would betray your vocation for him?” He was pale with anger and something else, she thought.

  “Enough, Henry,” shouted Sir John. “You forget yourself.”

  Eleanor barely heard him; she was transfixed by Henry’s eyes. They bore such pain as if she had betrayed him. Then he turned to his father.

  “This is my house...”

  “Then you at least owe your brother the courtesy due to a guest.”

  “Believe me, Father, it is only the fact that he is a guest under my roof that has kept him alive this evening.”

  “If you want a fight...” Edward jumped to his feet.

  “Sit down, Edward, you have never beaten Henry in a fight and in this mood he might kill you.” Sir John seemed weary. How many times had he had to stop fights between the brothers?

  “He deserves it, but, no, I will not kill him.”

  “Not tonight or any night?”

  Henry stared at his father and Eleanor realised that he was thinking about giving his word. It was not a foregone conclusion. Knowing that this was her fault, she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Say nothing, Eleanor.” Henry wasn’t even looking at her; how had he seen? She kept her silence as Henry continued to think.

  “No, Father,” he said at last. “I cannot promise not to kill him.” Henry also sounded weary.

  Eleanor looked at Edward and saw that he had paled. He was afraid. It was true, then, that he was a coward. Then her eyes returned to Henry; it was impossible to look away from him for long. Sir John sighed and looked at Eleanor. She was surprised at the anger in his face. He knew that she was the cause of this enmity between the brothers. She recalled Henry’s promise to kill Edward if he ever touched her. Still she watched Henry, waiting for something, but not knowing what it was.

  “You’ve had all the apology I’m going to make,” spat Edward.

  “I apologise, Henry.” Eleanor spoke quietly, but Edward jumped to his feet again.

  “You have nothing to apologise for.” Eleanor barely heard him as she watched Henry turn to her. She still didn’t understand why, but she knew that it was her decision not to go back to the convent that had caused him so much pain, not that she was to marry Edward.

  He nodded and left the hall. Eleanor rose and would have followed him, but Edward took her hand.

  “You have nothing to apologise for,” he repeated.

  Eleanor blinked back her tears. “I have everything to apologise for. I’m tired; I shall go to bed now.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that you’re going to him?”

  “I think I’m the last person he wants to see now. I drove him out of his own hall.” And this was her greatest sorrow. She would have little enough time with him over the next few days and already she had made her presence unbearable for him.

  “I’ll walk you to your bedchamber.”

  Eleanor was about to refuse, but they were betrothed and it was his right. She found her way back to her room and Edward took her in his arms and kissed her. He was shaking. Fear, she thought, not passion. Most definitely not passion,

  For the first time his kiss did not excite her. Even as he held her against his body and teased her mouth with his tongue, he seemed distant, as if she were the last thing on his mind. It was the same for her; she was wondering where Henry was and what he was doing. As soon as Edward released her she went into the room, barred the door behind her and fell to her knees. She p
rayed for Henry and for peace between the two brothers, but she feared that things between them would get very much worse.

  Eleanor broke her fast alone in her room the next morning. She could not face any of the family or Mass, not until she had spoken to Henry and maybe not then. She had been afraid that he would seek out Edward and continue their quarrel before she could talk to him, but hoped that his habit of attending Mass every morning would give him some peace. Before last night, she had hoped that she could join him there, as she had at his father’s manor, but that solace was now denied her.

  The food the servants had brought her had tasted like ashes in her mouth and she left most of it untouched when she went to find Henry in his solar. He had been up for some time and was going through an account book. There was a hawk on a perch behind him and Eleanor guessed that he had intended going hunting as an excuse not to see her today. He stood as she entered the room. She thought he looked tired and his mouth was set in a hard line. When he did not greet her with a smile she almost turned away.

  “Good morning, Eleanor, did you sleep well?” His voice was cold and distant, as if they were strangers who had been forced to make conversation one night in an inn.

  “No, did you?” To her surprise, her tone matched his. His face grew more sombre and he shook his head. “Was your bed uncomfortable?”

  “The bed was perfect. It was my soul that was uncomfortable, but that is as it should be.”

  “Then...”

  “No,” she interrupted him, “I do not think either of us has any need to say more on that subject.” Close to tears, she took a deep breath. “I have come to return your book. It has been a great comfort to me, thank you.” Even as she held it out to him her fingers clutched it as if they could not let go. In truth she did not wish to return it. During these last few weeks of loneliness it had been the one sure point of her world and she wished that she had paid it more attention. Now she understood that each time she had touched it she had known that he had touched it, that it was important to him, that he had left the most precious thing he possessed in her care. Now she knew how greatly she had sinned in that her first thought had always been of Henry and not of God as she read the Psalms or the prayers.